I'll Be Home For Christmas

With the holidays in full swing, I've thought a lot about the concept of "going home" and how suddenly this involves planes, trains, or automobiles. I think there is a lot to be said about the particular place where you grew up, where your parents live, or where you just feel loved, appreciated, and the most comfortable. Today, however, I am remembering the place I go home to every day--where I kick off my shoes and learn how to live with myself.

The center cushion on my couch. The cushion that houses me when I rest my feet at the end of every long day. When I wake up leisurely on a Saturday morning and drink copious amounts of coffee and watch Food Network marathons, just because I can. When I greet friends who are passing through and have taken a few meaningful hours of their life to catch up. When I escape work to take a desperate lunch break, and some times forget to even eat lunch.

The left side of my bed. The side that welcomes me when the day is done. That has a few tea stains after a night of sipping my stress away (I leave wine for another room). That has seen a few dry eyes after staying up past my bedtime to read just 5 more pages. That has a seen a few not so dry eyes.

The only two windows. The windows that show me the stars. That catch me every morning as I wake up and every night as I fall asleep. That glimmer all of the lights that shine through the darkness. That make the cars and people below seem so small and the birds seem not so small.

The place where pictures are strung across the wall. The pictures that hold memories of laughter, joy, and love. That remind me, no matter where I go, home will always be where they are.

Cheers,

SRS